Angelene

Shackled by flames

Presence protrudes

and forgives

''Don't push me too far.''

Angelene

lives

in a far off fire,

woven in her heart

like a torch.

Petal breath in palm,

dipped deep in
 frog spawn rivers,

her nipples sweetly kissed

the fine rimmed surface.

Rippling

towards the edges 
of their hearts.

*

They moved fine on the swing,
that day,

until their heads became faint,

but Angelene knew nothing 

of the kisses they sent,

because they were never truly felt.

*

''As I send my love in masks,

use not your heads but your hearts.''

Real love 

ripples in the dark.

x

The Body Hums. (Part. 2)

Right now,
in the truth of unrest;
I am blessed.

Unthwarted, 
time and time and time again..

(And as the pages fell,
down, down, down, unto
the broken palms of hell...

Downward steps
solemnly reclaimed by
her very nature,

..to God, 
did she disdain.,
through God,
did she remain..)

Falling, falling, falling,

forever disarmed - 
never disarming.

Fuck. Fucked.
Existentially FUCKED.

*

I shiver
I ache
I burn.
I forsake here
who I ever was,
whatever I ever was.

(No turning back now)

No more chasing,
no more time wasting;
it is closer to you, than you think.

I Burn. I Burn.

I am Cursed. I am Cursed.

For, I am Woman.

*

Succumb to your senses;
honey suckle red, and
enveloping every circle.

What once had died
now lives inside,
the egg of the child;
the nest of the unborn.

Rooted. 

Diluted.

Call to me 
when you are ready.
Be still and centred
in your search;
in your truth.

It's making the first step that counts, 
that first, simple step,
and being open to the nature that lives inside you.

x

Bullets.

They said she liked mermaids, and that she skips

''with a rope in the living room.''

Ponytails, ponytails

rubble and rust.

Dancing with the Angels,

amongst bones, amongst blood.

Ashes,

pale, hung -

interwoven and weaving still..

''..she was shot in the wrist by a rubber bullet.''

(Never going back again though,

no.

Never going back again.)

Alone and pale

and nowhere to go,

'cos your already home, my Angel.

You are already home.

* 

But she's not afraid of the soldiers,

no.

Not afraid of the soldiers no more..

And yet,

she is still ''unwilling to admit her fears.''

___

How many bullets was it, that called for such salty tears?

She doesn't know,

'cos she's only nine years old.

Only nine years old.